Thursday, October 4, 2012

It was a warm summer evening in July, my country's day of independence, yet I could not be any further away from the waving stars and stripes and beer can hat holders. No, I was in my beloved Berlin on a train to Spandau wearing nothing but a corset under a rain coat and knee high boots. I had been summoned by my "master" to meet in the woods for several hours of nature, sekt, and spanking. The long ride gave me time to imagine what people were thinking as they looked at me, my attire, and expression. I was very turned on by my request for the evening, but did not know how turned on I was until my bare ass touched the seat as I sat down. I felt so dirty and exposed, but I think that is what he wanted me to feel, although he was not there to see it. The longer the ride, the more I was turned on, thinking about what he would do to me in the deep dark forest.

When I entered the car, he told me to open the glove box. There inside was my 300€ ans a dog collar and line. He told me to remove both of them and explained that once I put on the collar, I am his bitch to do what he says. He placed the collar around my neck and kissed my forehead. We drove for about 20 minutes, so my fear of being too far away from civilization was calmed. As we drove he placed his fingers between my lips and then tasted me and said he could not wait for his little slave to remove her jacket. We arrived just at dusk to a recently cleared pasture lined with what seemed like never ending green. He had been there a few days before to mark the path to a special place. He led my line until we reached our first post, where he finally told me to remove my coat. I disbanded my belt and slow and decisively I unzipped my jacket and let it fall to the ground, exposing my shimmering white skin in the light of the full moon.

My master took hold of my leash and brushed the cool metal links across my breasts, as he studied the form of his beloved slave girl. He soaked in the details of my curves, how my hair fell on to my back, all the way to the crease of my posterior and then gab her a gentle slap and grip. He then began to lead me into the woods, but found it a struggle to guide the way and keep his eyes on me, and suddenly he said stop! You will lead the way....I want to watch your ass as you walk. Although it was dark, my skin was a complete glow, I myself could not stop looking down upon my breasts and enjoying the view in the moonlight. The excitement made my nipples hard and the warm breeze through my exposed ocelot made her begin to pulsate in her provocation.

I was secure in my trust for my master. This was not a problem, as I was quite aroused. As we continued our way into the thicket, I became slightly startled when I heard a herd of wild boar scrambling through the bushes just ahead. I maintained my composure and made as much noise walking as I could, so to keep them away. After all, I will be tied up helpless to a tree! We continued to a small and quaint open valley. Surrounded by tall trees was an open patch of plain seated just below the warm gaze of the moon. All I could do was soak in the elements of nature around me and I could not be anymore at peace. Feeling the fresh air in my lungs, on my lips, and dancing on my skin, I also never felt more sexy. My master commanded me to place my palms on a tree in the corner, while he laid out a blanket, our toys, a pillow, and some wine. When he completed his task, he requested that I join him for a libation. But first, he placed the shackles around my wrists for me not to forget my place.

After our moment of basking in the moonlight with our wine, he asked me if I remembered my positions for command. For a moment I had forgotten, as it had been some months since our last session. In my hesitation he exclaimed, for that you shall be punished. He shoved his cock in my mouth and smothered me until I was deprived of just enough air. He pulled back and gave me a small smack across the face and grabbed my lips tightly pulling them to his and then he kissed me passionately. Now, he said, what is the position for awaiting orders? I placed the pillow on the ground and delicately bent down to my knees with spread legs, my hands behind my back, and my head bowing in submission. Good girl, he said, as he rubbed his cock along the back of my neck, unbeknown this place on my body is one of my most sensitive erogenous zones. However, there was no hiding my arousal in this moment, as he placed his fingers between my legs and felt the cool wetness dripping from my lips. Triumphantly he gave her a spank and then licked the nectar from the palm of his hand.

He then commanded me to the punishment position. I had no problems with my commands, as all was coming back to me... it was like riding a bike. I slowly stood up and walked over to the tree placing my palms open embracing the bark. I bent my ass out as far as I could with a completely arched back, legs spread...completely exposed. Nothing but silence for a moment, until I heard the crack of the riding crop across my ass. For sure, I heard the cracking of the object across my ass, long before I felt it. Several cracks, I could hear, feel, sense nothing but the echoing of the cracks in the dark wood. The sound was invigorating. However, he could sense my complete enjoyment and therefore he stopped.

My last command was to show him the position for desire. I slowly move away from my corner to the blanket spread. Deliberately angling my body in co-ordinance with the light of the moon, I got on all fours, reached behind and spread myself open to him. I do not know what came over me, but I suppose it was the nature and my full exposure in it, but my pussy was throbbing. My master could sense this, so he refrained from touching me, rather he lifted me up by my hair and then gently caressed my face and told me how beautiful I was, just before he shoved his cock back into my mouth. There in the open nature, our audience of trees, random hidden animals, and the moon and stars above, I blew him deep and hard until he was about to cum....and he pulled away. It was not until he could not take any more that he pushed me back and began to lick and taste my juices. Playing with my asshole with his tongue and encircling it with his fingers, that I exploded all over his face. A never ending torrent of liquid alacrity spewed from my crevice.

The howling of my deepest passion roared in unison with the fireworks spectacle in the next town. This added the perfect ambiance to express my enthusiasm for this particular moment in my sex. The green, red, and blue light from above cascaded against my body illuminating the curvature of my breasts and my facial features. The out poor of my ecstasy left my body completely destitute and we took a few moments to intimately reflect on our actions and replenish our strength for what was to come next.

After our pause, my master picked up the ropes and a few toys and a headlamp and guided me deeper into the forest. Earlier he had found a couple of smaller trees close enough together to tether me to. Standing me in an X formation, he slowly tied each wrist and each ankle to my hosts. He then blindfolded me and gagged my mouth. he left me standing there, wanting, desiring, and teasing with silence. The anticipation built up and my pussy was once again dripping. out of nowhere I hear the lovely sound once again of the clapping of my ass, this time with a paddle. He alternated in paddling my ass and tweaking my nipples until he could no longer resist. I heard him open the condom wrapper and for some reason, this is a huge turn on. Then I feel him penetrate my pussy with his cock, finally being filled, I could not stop the rush of liquid as I felt it run down my legs. Not being able to get the perfect position to climax, he released me from my ties, grabbed my collar and pulled me to our place in the grass, bent me over and gave it to me hard. As he was about to cum, he quickly removed his condom and exploded his sperm all over my face. He took the time to gaze upon my face and enjoy the reflective glimmer of his seed in the moons grace.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Prostitute, whore, escort, courtesan. Deemed the oldest profession in the world, prostitution is still deemed a job for women who have lost their way, been forced into it and have little self-esteem and no self-respect. But what about those who choose the business? We spoke to a woman currently working as an escort in Berlin.

I became an escort about 9 months ago. This is something I decided to do. I wasn’t coerced or forced into it. And for now, it’s something I enjoy doing. Sure I do it to make money, this is my full-time job and business, but I get enjoyment out of it too and wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.

My decision to become an escort was for various reasons but mostly it seemed I’d reached a point where my search for work, and my search for sexual satisfaction intersected. At the time I had only been in relationships with women for the last 6 years. My inherent distrust of men had meant I was unwilling to have a relationship with them or be used by them in any way. However after all these years I began to long for sex with men again. I couldn’t tell you why this was, maybe my biological clock kicking in, who knows. But I decided to run with it.

However I was sorely disappointed. My 6 year hiatus from hetro-sex ended with a guy singing his own praises telling me how mindblowing it would be, only to find he was a minuteman. Needless to say, nothing was blown, especially not mind. It then occurred to me, if this is the kind of nonsense I was going to deal with in my personal life, why not at least get paid for it? I was unemployed at the time and it seemed a logical way to make a living and at least get something out of this hetro-sex my body craved.

Now many believe that escorting, prostitution, whatever you’d like to call it, is nothing but objectification of women and disrespecting and selling your body, I believe that I have actually found myself worth and realized my value. I realize that a lot of porn and prostitution objectifies women, but this only happens because women have been taught they have no value, especially when it comes to sex. Girls are taught boys only want you for sex, telling them that they have no other value except for a man’s sexuql enjoyment. Very few women realize the power they possess over men, but all women have this power. Why else would Muslim men insist women be completely covered?

I have come to understand my sense of worth and value and my power as a woman. I am empowered. Other women could do this too if they realized their worth. I’ve had times where I’ve been out with a client getting paid 300 for a night of bar hopping and giving a client company, and walked past hookers walking the streets, waiting for any guy to come along. If she only knew her self-worth she could be out there making more, enjoying it more. These women have what customers want and the ability to control it, they just needs to understand it. I don’t say yes to everyone that gets in touch with me. Clients have to be respectful and contact me in the proper way. Then if I feel comfortable with them and I click with them, there’s no problem. Because I know men will always want this, I can choose to ensure that I have a good time too. If you’re not enjoying it it’s not worth it.If I’m honest I think all women should be charging men for sex. Men don’t value anything unless they pay for it. As an escort I am wined and dined and the men are gentlemen and make more effort than any normal guy would, because they’ve paid for the experience. Men respect money. Nothing else. So if a woman hopes to be valued for what she is and treated properly by a man, she needs a price.Maybe that seems unromantic or callous but I think it’s sensible. As long as women don’t know their value, men with treat them as if they have no value and use you for sex. The only way to fix that? Put a price on yourself before others do it for you.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The following highlight is part of special article written for www.xxxtravaganza.com magazine on the topic of sexual objectification of both men and women. XXXtravaganza Magazine is a new online magazine preparing to launch its first edition on August 31st. Please visit the site for additional interesting topics and themes of discussion. The magazine is considering me as a regular columnist and I would sincerely appreciate your positive and negative feedback to be written to the magazine directly. I hope you enjoy.

The Embodyment
of Innosense

Looking
back on my life and the lives of people I have had considerable contact with, I
make attempts to see crucial moments of impact.Moments that have considerable influence on our thought processes,
decisions, how we look at life, and how life in turn looks at us. Society,
religion, and media have a significant monopoly on regulating our behavior,
especially when it comes to our roles, gender roles in particular. But in my
experience, the most significant and what should be the most trustworthy, is
that of the family. The family is meant to analyze, interpret, clarify, and in
many cases transcend these social signals. My moment of impact came from an
amalgamation of familiar and social communications, when I decided to become a
whore. When I saw my role in life to be a full-time job and that I should be
the boss. A single correspondence between my father and me exemplifies my
embodyment of innosense.

My
Dearest Father,

I came
across this letter you wrote to me when I was 15 years old. Do you remember
writing this to me?

My Dearest Daughter,

First and foremost, I want you to
know how much I love and adore you. You are my angel and princess. I know my
restrictions on you in the last years have been hard. I know you think you hate
me because I control how late you are allowed to stay out, what you wear, and
with whom you go out. But it is for your own good. I am only trying to protect
you from the mischief of men. I know it is hard for you to understand at this
time, but at some point I hope you will. The truth is that men, especially
boys, are driven by their desire for sex. I know with your hormones raging as
they are, you are also highly vulnerable to these coercions. I only want to
preserve your innocence as long as possible. You cannot trust men, especially
these boys, because they lack the capacity to think beyond their hormone driven
disposition. I know you also think you hate me, because I give your brother
Jake, more freedoms, but he is a man. I do not have to worry about him getting
raped or pregnant. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you my
princess. Please try not to hate me for my wanting to protect you. I only want
the best for you.

All the love in the world,

Your father

I know we
have not spoken much since I finished college over 10 years ago, but I have
been busy trying to find my place in this world. As a young woman, I looked up
to you and we always did things together. In my eyes you were the perfect man.
You were always there and you treated mom and melike
queens. I do not know the personal details about your divorce, but,through
my own experiences in relationships and life, I have a pretty good idea of what
happened.

As I have
wanderedthrough this journey of life, I have always had in the back of my
mind what you said in this letter thatyou wrote me so long ago,
“men are driven by their desire for sex and that you cannot trust them.” You
were right, at the time I despised you so much for not allowing me to learn how
to carry myself in this man’s world, but rather you kept me hidden away. I
could not understand how it was fair to keep me in solitude, as an unattainable
object, while you let Jake have free run of his exuberance.

When I
was a girl and dreamed of one day getting married, I only wished to have a man
as devoted and true as you. But in the end, not even you were impervious to
your own theory. I loved how you took care of me and mother, but as an adult, I
came to resent how you kept us dependent on you. Your energies given to our
preservation, protection, and even adoration in the end, propagated your theory
of men and became a self-fulfilling prophecy, not only for you, but also for
Jake. Giving him his freedoms without censure, allowed him to have two children
and become a father to neither.

All my
life, I have been in and out of relationships, unable to trust the men I am
with. I cannot even say that at any time did any of them truly ever deserve my
trust or what should be valued in me the most. But, even if they had, I would
not have known, because I never really knew my true value myself, until now. I
am now 35 years old. I have a college education and I live a free life, however,alone. I
have sought to find the right guy and in my most recent attempts, I placed an ad
in the personals of Craigslist,amongst others,and I
have to say, I hit rock bottom, when Jake responded to my ad, not knowing it
was me, with nothing but a picture of his cock.

I know
this perpetuation of objectifications is unlikelyto change
overnight or even at all. But for myself, I can change the way in which I am
objectified and at least demand value for that which men desire most. If men
will only ever see me as an object, then I shall collect on the fruits of this
labor and expect remuneration.I can play the game along with
them, but from now on, the game will be played with my rules or not at all.

So to
respond to your letter father, I do understand. I understand, the who, what,
why, and how…vividly. I do not hate you, I never did. I am only disappointed
that when you were given the position in life to empower your children and to
teach them dignity, honor, and respect, you took the easy way…to go with the
status quo. But, father, it was not all for nothing, as I have become powerful
and prosperous only because of this deficiency of men and because you taught me
never to trust them because of it.

Your Dearest
Daughter

Aimmee Dudevant

Confessions of a Whore in Berlin

8/23/2012

sexual objectification, woman, becoming a whore, born a whore, how to attract a man

Sunday, July 1, 2012

"Get a real job you fucking filthy slut. I
bet you couldn't handle that could you? Fucking stupid whore-keep spreading your
legs for every Tom dick and Harry. You'll catch every STD in no time. Next thing
you know you'll be laying on a gyn table with your legs spread getting
cryotherapy for the hpv you contracted. You can get it through a condom by the
way. This job will fuck you up mentally and emotionally in the long run. You'll
hate men and probably become gay. Drugs-drink-you'll do it all eventually. Do
yourself a favour and go back to school. 50 euro for your life is
ridiculous!"

Thank you for your comments and
citicisms...most welcome. Especially coming from someone who knows such big
words! Cryotherapy, that is a nice 50 cent word thrown into the mix of
abreviated words and thought processes.

You obviously have missed the
point, but that is ok! Americans are norotious for being ignorant, not knowing
how to read, and well critical thinking is especially a known handicap. You
obviously stumbled upon my site looking for a whore, or better yet, some kind of
fellatious stimulation based on the experience of others, as I am sure you have
a problem finding it on your own.

Again, thank you for your critique,
but I suggest next time before you raise your hand to ask the teacher a stupid
question, read and try, just try to comprehend what you are reading first.

the very bestAimmee

I still stand by the theory that many still have a moral repugnance for the utilization of a whore, prostitute, cortisan, escort, companion....what ever you would like to call it, but the simple fact is, if we weren't in demand, we would not exist. One may not for himself pay a whore for service that he may or may not otherwise receive, but by visiting my site and reading what I write, one does get off on the idea of, at the very least.

Is being a whore, my life long dream? Is it what I want to do for the rest of my life? No!

Whores, start 'em young!

Then why do I do it? Why did I become a whore? What will the repercussions be from be a whore...mentally and physically? Will I hate men in the end? Will I become a lesbian? Will I become an acloholic or drug addict, like the anonymous ignoratous previously assumed!?

If anyone has been following my writing from the beginning, you know pretty much where I come from mentally and sexually and that these assumptions are absord and on many levels! We have already established my vast educational background, we have already established that, I only ever have safe sex and for the record, even when I am in a commited relationship, I have always used condoms. I cannot really turn into a lesbian simply because I have been living as a whore, as I lived as a lesbian for 6 years before starting this profession, (not to mention you are born gay, it is not a choice. If dislike, frustration, and misunderstanding of the opposite sex where a precursor to homsexuality, their would be no straight men left in this world.) and most importantly, I do what I do not just because I need to survive (writing does not pay well), but because I love doing it!

The simple fact is...I will admit, I do not trust men and if anything that my profession and life experience has tought me, is that my distrust for men is not completely unfounded. However, how I choose to view, cope, deal, utilize, or live with this knowledge is not reflectant in any way of hating men for this distrust. Distrust in my case, is my problem to own. I simply utilize and profit off of the fact that, most men will cheat and that men are creatures of nature and not societal constraints. So in the end, one cannot really hate men for this seemingly distatseful flaw, but rather hate how societal constraints limit men from performing properly based on biological and natural laws.

It is in societal constraints and personal expectations of relationships, marriage, and individual insecurity, mostly with women, that men are told to ignore their sexual desires, urges, and nature. So really, when a man I am on love with steps out and needs something at that moment, that I cannot or will not give him, how can I hate him for it? The societal constraints posed by Man, are set to assume that we are all the same, the same in thought processes, desires, beliefs, needs, etc. and they go against the very bilogical foundations of being human.

Is it fair to assume, that because a man utilizes the services of a whore, that the whore or himself has a higher chance of contracting an STD, than someone having sex for free? I do not think so. For me at least, as I cannot speak for other whores, but because I am in close physical contact with a higher rate of men, I am even more careful in respect to using condoms and practicing safe sex. Plus, explicitely, if a man is stepping out of his relationship with a whore, does he really want to get caught knocking up a prostitute or contracting a disease and giving it to his partner? I also think that men who generally use the service of an escort have a better sense to use a condom, knowing in the back of their mind, that she is more frequently engaged with other sexual partners, compared to some who go out on the town, goes clubbing or drinking and partaking in the use of drugs, and end up in bed with a stranger. In this setting, being with an escort is much more controlled, not to mention here in Berlin, where prostitution is legal, our social medicine covers our frequent STD panels.

75% of my clients are married, 15% are single men who are too busy in their careers to go out and meet and maintain a proper relationship, based on societal constraints and expectations(at least they know their own limitations), while the remaining 10% are just regular guys wanting to have fun and explore or unable to find a girlfriend due to shyness, maybe not being attractive enough, or have some kind of flaw. Now you do the math! Is my general distrust for men unfounded? Do I appear to hate men for acting on their natural instincts? I hope you answer yes to the first and no to the second. :)

What I do hate in men, is that when they do act upon these natural instincts, urges, and desires, that I myself do understand, they feel it is ok to act inapropriately. That they cannot control their actions enough with themselves to attain what they desire with gratitude and respect. Some men or boys, however you want to look at it, feel that women are only here to serve them sexually. The need to exercise gentlemenlike behavior and maintain a rational thought during the process is seemingly nonexistant. For example, when responding to an ad on Craigslist: A woman will post an ad, sexual or not...it really does not matter, the majority of the respondances are a man sending nothing but a picture of their cock, or what I call a cock handshake. They take absolutely no time at all to actually read the ad, decide if it really appeals to them, nor do they take a moment to write something dignified or sincere, (even if it is false sincerity), to try and convince the woman why she should choose him or in this case, why this cock is better than the other 75 cocks! Men, by doing this....constantly shoving cocks in our faces only tells us 2 things about you: 1 that you are in fact only as good as your cock, and in most cases, they are not as brilliant as you would like to think they are, 2 that you have absolutely no respect for women and view them only as sex objects (free whores).

Are women covered to hide their sexuality or sex from men? or is it a mark of mens' inability to view women as anything more than a sex object?

Putting it into this perspective, the men I have just described, are many I am sad to say. For this reason alone, if I were just a regular girl, not a contracted sex worker, would I have a reason to hate men? So one could say, that the natural response for women to this mentality is to demand payment, if in fact they will be treated like a cum gargling whore anyway. At least from where stand, as an Escort, I choose my clients based on their capacity to maintain a coherent, thoughtful, and respectful inquiry to my services, while having little to no blood flow to the brain. I challenge all the men out their to give it a try....in the end you may actually get what it is you desire!

Until I find the man I desire fully, who respects me, adores me, and wants to dedicate himself to me, within the boundaries and expectations I dictate for myself comes along, I will remain a whore, an escort...receiving the best moments each client can offer... keeping it real, one hour at a time!

I seriously invite my readers to comment and provide their own perspectives.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

15 Minutes is about how long it will
take for you to read a brief script of my real life

15 Minutes also emphasizes a time in
my life that was mind altering.

15 Minutes is nothing to do with
sex...unless it marks its break!

This is the meat of energy that propels
your beloved Aimmee... enjoy!

15 minutes

Some say the fervor of life ends when one turns thirty. Thirty is the
very last hurrah and then life is just about sustaining it. It is meant to be a
time when people settle down and start families and the mundane sets in. Not
for me, when I turned thirty my life had just begun. I was on the road to my
future, finally. I had discovered a big part of my sexuality, my daughters were
coming of age, I was in university again, learning and writing about things I
could not believe, and I was nowhere near becoming settled. I was steering my
life in hyper speed with one thing at the finish line…living in Berlin.

I no longer saw a place for me in a country that values democracy and
freedom in the name of genocide, world invasion, and dictatorship and
surrounding myself with people whose comprehension skills could be measured by
the size of a bucket of KFC chicken…not just any old bucket of chicken, but
rather in specific, the pink Susan G. Komen fight against breast cancer bucket
of chicken. You have got to be fucking kidding me! At this point in my life I
had had the opportunity to visit Germany twice and be so inspired to see what
making time for life was like and what the meaning of freedom was. The funny
thing is, Germany still has a stigma of being Nazi and of course every country
next to the almighty US is indeed a third world country, still pissing in pots
and holes in the ground! Well this is still true for France, but this veers off
course as France does not count.

Vicious vicious circle...you idiots...keep eating that hormone infested chicken! They will find the cure for breast cancer only after you are the test subject!

I am very much a part of Generation X, as they call it. But this X-er
has made great use of her free thinking ability and right, although
disregarding the supposed temporal obligation to country. When I was in Germany
the first time, I actually liked that I was able to get on a train or any form
of public transportation without a ticket. Yes, I said it! But not in the way a
dishonest person would say it. I liked that I could actually do this and maybe
even get away with it, but the point was, I was able to use my own character,
my own better judgment, and actually process a thought without dictation…that
possible free ticket to ride, was more than a one way ticket to a destination
for me…it was my ticket to freedom of thought. I found something fundamentally
wrong with the idea of my freedom in the freest country in the world, being constantly
blockaded by a rotating stylist, being constantly reminded by signs, gadgets,
and mindless robots, that my every move was being watched because as a “free”
people, we must be treated like children unable to act in public. The rotating
stylist is merely a metaphor for a “sheeple” mindlessly wielded and guided to
the end of an unfulfilling life.

I was also quite enthused when I saw people actually taking lunch
breaks longer than fifteen minutes. Jesus Christmas, in the US we dedicate our
lives to our jobs and in most cases work to support our hobby as corporate
slaves. Fifteen minutes in the US could be as disastrous as a heart attack in
the world of American commerce, forget about an hour and forget about letting
the slaves feed! It was a magnificent spectacle to watch, as they were
literally sitting down in cafés or restaurants eating meals with real cutlery
and yes…enjoying a glass of wine or beer without ridicule. It was fascinating
to see the level of respect a people had for life…and freedom for that matter.
If the government threatened to take away a right or do something the people
did not like, the people would mob the streets in protest….yah America…PROTEST!
These so called Nazi’s have actually learned something from having a notorious
dictator ruin their lives in the past! Protest…a rise in the use of freedom of
speech, not being afraid of what will happen when they do speak up, not being
censored to keep from hurting some religious fundamentalists’ feelings, nor
being censored by which News syndicate….ahhahha FOX NEWS to broadcasts
it…because they have, since that painful time in their history, learned the
value of rights and freedoms and know….when they are not executed, used, and
maintained, they are up for grabs by the next dictatorial vulture. The flavor
of freedom to German’s is like Coca Cola for Americans, the addiction and
desire is sustained only when the reality is tangible!

I spent many days and nights checking out different cities throughout
the country, just to see if this sense of freedom was any different based on
region. What I found was, while in the south it is more conservative than let’s
say, Berlin…the zest and zeal for life everywhere is apparent. I met several
people while walking along the streets, riding the metro, and sitting in the
many open parks, that were specifically established for the people to utilize
for their own convenience, at any time of day or night…and of course with a
beer in hand. You got that right…I could be in the park after dark without
trampling on the dignity of a lonely and bored police officer lurking in the
bushes waiting to write a bill of tax for passing through.

My first impressions of Germany stimulated not only my mind, but
opened my eyes to a world, that I could have never imagined for myself living
in the US of A. Every move I made from those experiences forward was a
deliberately executed act of my right to be free. I knew my energy would be
wasted in dedicating it to recovering freedom in the Western World…this was too
big for me….especially in a world of ignorance being bliss. I had to make it
for myself…suddenly thinking this way made it seem achievable. I set out to
start university over again…and yes on the government’s dime, as I have no
intention of paying it back. I had been a slave to them long enough and felt no
regret and still to this day, believe I was taking what I feel I deserved. I
found the very best liberal college in Atlanta…also the most expensive and
tested into classes…yes, you heard it correctly. I tested into university! I
will back up a bit and reveal that I never graduated from high school. I never
said that I was not a statistic or average byproduct of the American way of
life! I also had children at the young age of 14…but I get off track here, as
it is not what I did in the ignorance of youth that defines me, but rather what
I do with my life forward thinking.

I tested into the very astute Oglethorpe University to begin studying
International Relations and Minoring in German. There I was able to tailor my Bachelor
Degree towards whatever defined path I wanted. My focus would be on German
politics, society, and history, and its impact and the potential influence it
could have on the world. I had many questions about how specifically a country
with such a sorted past could transform itself to reflecting the true essence
of freedom, build one of the greatest economies in the world, and do it without
sacrificing its soul to the devil…or China! There I spent many hours
researching and writing papers and essays on topics that astonished my own
personal capabilities. Two semesters alone focused on the perspective thoughts
and influences of philosophy and this in itself developed my foundations for
understanding and arguing global themes. The education was rigorous and
unremorseful…grooling, as I also had to work full time to support myself. This
comes to no surprise btw to Americans…this is the standard in the free world.

I received the best education one could attain…in Georgia, for a
little over two years, until my federal financial aid would be exceeded, only
two semesters before I was due to graduate. The financial counselors refused to
petition the federal aid committee to extend my aid, so that I may finish my
degree and suggested I take out a private loan in the amount of $25,000 to
finish the last two semesters. This was not even a possibility, as I had just
taken out an $11,000 private loan to do my mandatory study abroad course in
Berlin. This time proved to be a stressful and a deliberative moment in my life.
The universe was thrusting life altering obstacles my way, its way of showing
me the right path. See, where some may succumb to the challenge and give up,
this was for me a personal check written to test my will. If I thought the
obstacle of finding a way to finish was enough for me to give up on my dream,
then it was not meant to be. But, if I did whatever it took to finish, I knew
in the end, no matter how hard it would be to survive in a foreign country,
freshly starting a new life, the odds would be better in my favor and I could
do it.

After taking some time to figure out my options, which were severely
limited, I decided to go to State College to finish. I spoke with the advisors
and they expressed to me that, I would have very little more to do to finish my
degree. The only hindrances were that, I would probably be there for a year
rather than two semesters and that I would have to ask my father to help me
pay. I myself could live with being in school for another year, as I looked at
it as a chance to polish up on what I already knew and maybe learn a little
more along the way. My father always said, “It is what you learn after you know
it all that really counts.” But the part about asking my father for money…this
was the worst part and really the only thing that could ultimately impact my
outcome. I could feel the nausea in my stomach and a rumble in the Bronx begins
to take over my nerves. How does a child who lived such a cavalier life, always
on the outskirts and at thirty years of age not accomplishing anything aside
from an Associate’s Degree in Graphic Design and doing nothing with it,
convince her very politically and financially conservative father to believe in
her and invest in her? Here is when I began to question my own ability.

I do not know I convinced him, but luckily I did! See, where I went
wrong in that last question was going against my personal beliefs stated
earlier…I cannot be defined by my ignorance of youth…but rather by what I can
accomplish in the future. Although my father and I both reside on two very vast
and different ends of any spectrum…the one thing we do come together on is my
strength in will. He saw, through the things I I was writing throughout my time
at Oglethorpe and was very impressed with my skill with words. He was not as
impressed by what I was learning, but more by how I ingested it and then
represented it. If my father could believe in me, then I knew my dream from
that moment on was more…it was now a mandate!

I began my studies the following semester and the challenge was not in
the learning, NO WAY. Rather it was dealing with every hemorrhoidal person that
was allowed to attend college…where the fuck is the value here? Thanks George
W. Bush, for no child left behind! My first day at Georgia State University was
filled with speeches and introductions to the faculty and staff that were
stating empty reassurances in quality of education, raising the bar for
students…blah blah blah. After taking in all the verbal vomit, the panel of
academics took questions from the students, which had been sitting there
staring at them with a glaze of boredom for the last hour. The very first
question was presented by an incoming freshman. She was a petit black girl all
of seventeen years of age, chewing gum and attending her first day of college
wearing her pajama’s. As she stood up the only view was of the word “JUICY”
written across her ass. I thought, oh boy, am I really here? Can I just forgo
the hours of labor…just give me the drugs, cut me open and take this child out!
? She stood before the dean and president and her future professors and with a
serious and completely straight faced and asked, “yah, do you be checking
attendance yo?

I stood up and walked out of the auditorium as the president justified
the question with an answer. I thought, Jesus fucking Christ, did I really make
the right decision? Yes, I said to myself. Over and over I said, yes. At this
moment in time I have reached beyond what any University could actually teach
me…it was no longer about education of academics…it was all about the great
test, the great sacrifice, and then being served humble pie! I knew I would be
in for a great personal challenge as my first semester was a joke. I learned
that all my perspectives on philosophy courses from Oglethorpe were
non-transferable…something to do with the verbiage in class description. GSU is
not known for critical thinking or teaching it for that matter. In a way, this
did not surprise me. So, I was forced to take the GSU version of
perspectives…Dinosaurs! WTF? To break it down in a nutshell...I attended the
first week of this class learning: that if I show up for the class the day
before the exams, I would get all the details about what would be covered. Then
I could show up for the exam and fill in little bubbles for an hour and leave.
I passed the class with an A and never wrote a single analytical paper, Oh
wait, I never wrote anything except my name atop the bubble sheet.

My stress lay only in the time I felt I was
wasting there at this sham of a school, who continually found more issues with
my transfer credits, that would ultimately keep me there enrolled and paying
for a useless tedious “education” for almost 4 more years. I had taken and
retaken courses and actually did manage to write an amazing piece on the Dialog
of Architecture in Post War Berlin. This paper, in the end, was so good in
comparison to fucktards attending that school, I was accused of plagiarism.
Oops, my bad, I missed a quotation mark in editing….I guess the fact that this
mistake had been overlooked by the teachers’ assistant and oh, yah, the actual
teacher, the first two times I submitted it for review, makes for dishonesty in
a well versed student of German history! I did not let this set me back, as I
was determined to finish what I had started and well, even though the school
itself was a paradoxical mockery of the education system of America , I cannot
say it was all for nothing. Because I extended my stay at the hotel de la
academia, I was given the opportunity to complete an internship both with
Pfizer Pharmaceuticals in 2010 and Deutsche Bahn in 2011 in Berlin.

After my arduous tenure at Georgia Nonsensical University, I had
Berlin in my view. I would finish my last semester in May of 2011 and move to
Berlin to complete an internship for Deutsche Bahn. I left before my graduation
ceremony would commence, but really I had no interest in being a part of that
particular fiasco and what I would call the walk of shame, other than to maybe
to dress as a sheep in a clown suit. I was done and was not looking back.

Before I left, I gave up all of my possessions and prepared never to
return. I found a cheap room to rent from a crazy old German hippy who likes to
sit on her couch with her dogs all day, watching her stories while sipping on
hash! She herself has many stories of her life as a traveling hippy from the
Black Forrest…she always made time to share some German Culture with me, coffee
and cake at 4pm, Sunday brunch, and other traditional German feasts. My life in
Berlin was never taken for granted. I observed everything around me, and daily
have paid homage to the architecture, the people, and the life with a subtle
grin of appreciation. Still to this day, as I walk along the streets with my
mysterious smile, people always look back at me, either with a reciprocated
smile or with the curiosity about what my secret might be…much like when one
looks at the Mona Lisa. I love this feeling.

One year later, living in Berlin, I thrive on my freedoms. I thrive on
the life that took decades to achieve. I am always on the go working in a
different café and being amongst people. I am healthier and 60lbs lighter, I
get sick less often and less intensely, I have met very interesting people and
made valuable friendships and connections and all of this, I attribute to not
sitting behind an overpriced piece of machinery that enables indifference and
complete isolation and mindlessness. I am mobile and active mentally and
physically, I am a living breathing part of the societal life pulse of Berlin.
Connected and fulfilled.

Monday, June 18, 2012

After some time with experimenting with anal sex,
I have really grown to enjoy the act immensely. I love how much pleasure it
gives my partner, I love the naughtiness of it and the relinquishing of myself
to my partner...there are even times I have cum my hardest from it. But there
are its drawbacks, especially in being an escort and offering her ass as a
specialty......everyone wants the ass!

I charge extra for this menu option not because I
dislike it, but it requires a constant upkeep in diet and hygiene, not to
mention the constant penetration of the sphincter, does in fact make it less
constrictive. Just to offer a little insight on this, in hopes for men around
the world to better appreciate and understand the strain and demand for ass and
why it does and should cost more. (even if you are not utilizing a whore
respect and appreciation should always be number 1)

When I am contacted by a potential client who is
asking for my ass as a delicacy...it should be just that! One does not just
bend over and allow the man to say, "Land Ahoy!" This could lead to
serious discomfort from blockage, tearing, and or landslides and unless you are really into
scat play, this could prove to be a disaster. The ass is something special and
must be treated with care. Love the ass, play with the ass with nice caresses.
Never forget the main function of the ass. If you play with fire, you will eventually
get burned.

An anal sex date is not like any other date. The
ass does not need to be wined and dined. In fact, an anal date is much like going
to the zoo, as the same rules apply… do not feed the animals. Dining your anal
date beforehand is never the best idea. Rather a sensual buildup of
lubrication, some Prosecco, candles, and soothing music that beats to the rhythm
of the heart is always best. This relaxes the date and thus opens her up to
you. Once you have enjoyed your appetizer, then go on for the main course!

For me, the anal sex date requires me to take
complete charge. Therefore, before agreeing to a meeting for anal sex, I
require a minimum of 6 hours to allow my system to work through what is inside
and or I will limit what I eat for 24 hours. As I shower and do my normal
preparations for our date, shaving, lotioning, and douching, I must also give
myself an enema. Although an enema is not always full proof, it can pump
unwanted air in the intestines causing discomfort and excess gas. Doing this
too often is also not healthy. So I limit my anal dates to a maximum of 2 per
week.

Over
the last months of constant anal sex preparation, my weight has fluctuated severely;
my stomach has had serious digestive issues ranging between nausea, diarrhea,
and constipation. I have had to settle the stomach by taking anti-nausea pills,
anti-diarrhea medication to help relieve the symptom and also to keep my food
from processing too fast. This in turn tends to constipate me and I must then
take laxatives to then flush out the system. I have even experienced moments of
incontinence and at age 30+, this is unacceptable. As you can imagine the
duties of an escort to provide anal sex are quite rigorous and should be adored,
appreciated, not taken for granted. Even if you are not utilizing the services
of an escort to fulfill your anal urges, it is also important to understand
your partner’s limitations and possible preparations to give you what you
desire. Remember, it is only pleasing to her, when she is comfortable and
relaxed. Not taking care of her in this respect will negate any and all desires
for anal at the time and possibly in the future for you both.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Another fantastic meeting with a sexy, sophisticated, and
well-endowed client from Switzerland! I am just curious as to what is in the
water in that beautiful land, to produce such beauty. The type of man that
presents outwardly to the world only a respectable, studious, and gentlemanly socialite
and in bed also be a great and decisive deviant, yet sympatisch lover! I met
this man several months ago and I was delighted to know that he thought of me
again when he came to visit Berlin and that his anticipation of me was so
strong, he booked his favorite berlin escort 1 month before his journey.

As he greeted me in front of his hotel as I smoked a
cigarette my breath was taken away. He had grown even more handsome than I had
remembered. We chatted each other up in the elevator as he enjoyed taking in my
sexy appearance….dressed innocently for the added affect to what we were about
to partake in….some play in domination and submission. I entered the room and
saw his collection of toys and gadgets and was immediately aroused. First
things first, he said, let us take care of your reward! He opened the safe and
handed me my tender. I felt erotically dirty…and in this moment, being handed
the money added to the erotic nature of my role. It signifies the curtain
rising and for me to take my place in the center of the stage. For 2 hours I
will perform the desire of a very sexy man happily, as his desire matches mine
in level of deviance and attraction. He asked me, Aimmee are you ready for a
little domination and submission? To have my ass spanked? To be penetrated in
every orifice by his extremely huge cock? I looked at him with an innocent yet
seductive smile and curious eye and responded; yes I am ready for you! He said,
Aimmee….yes I am ready sir! He extended his hand behind my head, pulled me fast
to him and started to kiss me with his sweet soft lips and he began to undress
me. Of course I would not make it easy for him….my innocent attire proved to be
chastising in its multiple layers and with each layer removed the more
inviting. Once he had disrobed me he told me to get on the bed on all fours. I
did what I was told and looked back at him in curiosity and with a deviant
smile.

Oh yes….what a view….look at that ass….I am a lucky man, he
said. He started to spank and pet my ass…harder and harder and then softly pet
my soft pussy…teasing me. I was
completely turned on by his admiration of his views, his titillation and pain
he was afflicting, all the while my body craved more and more. I thought about
how hard his big cock was…throbbing as he was building himself up…knowing that
he desired what I did….his large cock deep inside me, deep inside my mouth,
deep inside my pussy, and deep inside my ass. But all must wait! He spanked me
with his hands, then with the paddle. He inserted an acrylic dildo into my
pussy and watched me squirm. He played with my asshole with a nice warming
jelly until he inserted the dildo into my ass and watched it closely as it
penetrated me. He watched as my breathing became more labored in deep arousal. He inserted a nice black plug in my ass and
commanded me to keep it there. Then he quickly stopped and commanded me on the
floor at the edge of the bed, there he exclaimed, you know what you must do now….take
my cock into your mouth….take it nice and deep…like a good girl.

I was delighted to take his very beautiful and extremely
large cock into my mouth. I love a challenge and a challenge it was….a cock
like this comes but only few and far between and my mouth must adjust to take
it all and take it well. Only after a few moments this mission was accomplished
and I had him all the way down my throat…tickling the tip of his cock with my
tonsils. Then I began to go faster and harder and he pulled me by the hair off
of his cock and threw me back on the bed….gently yet animalistic. He put on a
condom and said, are you ready for my cock in your pussy? Oh, yes, I said, I
want your cock in my pussy. He cut me off in mid-sentence and with a loader
more commanding voice he said, no!... say Can I please have your cock in my
pussy sir?!CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR COCK
IN MY PUSSY SIR? I repeated with a whimper.

As he entered my pussy with his large and engorged cock I
could feel each and every centimeter in length and girth….and the sensation
sucked the breath right out of me and the walls of my vagina contracted,
clenched, and concatenated to his member perfectly. Every moment he was inside
me I could feel his excitement and I was happy to deliver and when he was about
to cum and when one would think a cock could not get any larger….I could feel
the swelling and his release in mutual climax.

We took a moment to relax and get caught up from our last
meeting. I thoroughly enjoy speaking with this very academically astute man.
Not to mention he is very nice to look at. So nice, so perfect in fact, I
seriously have to wonder why he is not taken. He is in a position where he
could have whatever and whomever he wanted, yet he is all ethically and gallantly
restrained. He is sincere, realistic, and secure, yet playful and charismatic
like a young boy. He checked deviously to see if my plug was still where it
should be and gave me a nice slap on my ass. After a few moments of sharing reciprocally
stimulating conversation, he is hard once again and the engorged member demands
more dictation.

Next I become his slave in shackles of pleasure and leather.
I am completely in his control by his tether. With my wrists chained to my
ankles and poised upon my knees…he holds me close, fingers grasping my hair,
his soft lips kissing me…his fingers inside me massaging my pussy with the beckoning
strokes of a master…until she relinquishes her sweet nectar. Dripping first
down my thigh, then gushing in rhythm to his repeating gestures. He commands me
with a pull of my collar down to the floor where I must take his cock once
again in his mouth. Holding me by my hair, directing my mouth where he wants
it, it turns me on more and I cum once again. Putting me back in my place like
a doll on the bed, he bends me over and plays with the plug a bit and spanks me
harder and harder with his hands and then again with the paddle. He knows that
in my arousal he must hold the plug in as he plays with my pussy or in my
moments of high arousal, I will push it out and the added pressure of him
holding the plug in, stimulates me more. Bent over before him with my plugged
ass in the air and my pussy staring face to face with him, he is ready to
penetrate my remaining orifice. He asks me if I am ready for his big cock in my
ass?

Oh yes, I want your big cock in my ass please give it to me!
He commands stronger…no… say it correctly Aimmee or you shall not have this big
cock in your ass. I disobey and say nothing. He takes me by the chin and gives me a slap
across the face and tells me to ask properly. I still disobey by saying nothing
and looking at him and smiling. He smacks me again and kisses me and grasps my
tits tightly. Then in my heightened arousal I ask…..will you please fuck me
with your big cock in my ass…sir? Yes Aimmee….you will take my big cock in your
ass and love it. He slowly removes my plug and inserts his finger inside me…watching
closely then he applies a pinch of warming lube and massages my hole with his
finger, then in sets the tip of his cock….in and out with just enough to create
a suction and a pop….then glides his member all the way to the end. My back
arched and then caved in complete submission to his wordless command. My ass
was open for him with a tightness of welcoming resistance. Slow and deep, deep
and slow, breathing in rhythm, his hand on my back and the other around my
neck, I felt the flow of my cum trickle down my legs…harder and deeper the cum
flowed rapidly. He quickly removed his cock, put me down on the floor on my
knees, pulled off the condom and shoved his cock in my mouth and then jerked
himself and said, you want me to cum on your face? Yes…yes sir….cum on my face.
I could barely finish my request before
his warm pearlescent load spewed all over my lips, cheeks, nose, and eyes.

In his sigh of relief he sat there and looked at me saying
how I should see how beautiful I looked at that moment. With one eye closed I
sat up with a gesture to unshackle my wrists from my ankles. He set me free and
I walked over to the mirror and looked…and for the first time I could see and
understand the beauty of which he spoke. He had not just a beautiful cock, but
his cum was just as delectable creamy white and smooth. Perfect in consistency,
quantity, and actual placement….it was beautiful to see HIS beautiful seed on
my face.

I began to clean myself up and reapply my makeup and in between
we exchanged intimate dialog and several compliments and the lingering words
from his mouth spoke….Aimmee, you have such a beautiful face, but your face looks
even more beautiful with my cum on it!

How about a coffee?

If you appreciate my erotic stories...please contribute to my blog to help keep them coming. First and foremost, I am a writer, and artist of sorts.
I am always recruiting interesting gentlemen interested in being my next story! Contact me at aimmee.dudevant@hotmail.com to make our date.
Thank you for your support!
Aimmee Dudevant

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Greetings and Salutations

Thank you for visiting my blog. I hope you find what you read humorous, erotic, and stimulating. Everything you will read about me is very real and very true. Please feel free to comment, make contact with me and interact. I like to hear from everyone and if you would like me to write about something in particular, just ask. I have many other stories ready to respond!